


the best medicine

by renecdote



Category: DCU
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, kryptonite poisoning, the trinity are domestic and it's adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 14:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14427351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renecdote/pseuds/renecdote
Summary: They rarely have mornings like this, lazing in bed, and it’s almost enough to make Clark consider letting himself be poisoned by Kryptonite more often.Clark gets caught by a bomb with Kryptonite in it. The next morning, Bruce and Diana take care of him.





	the best medicine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [second_hand_heaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/second_hand_heaven/gifts).



> Happy birthday Nova :)

Clark stretches, feeling sore muscles awaken across his body. He groans. It’s not even a pleasant soreness, just the burning ache that always seems to follow exposure to Kryptonite. He’s never been sure whether it’s from the strain his body is put through without powers or whether it’s because the kryptonite eats at his cells. Most likely it’s a combination of both.

“Morning,” a voice rumbles and Clark cracks open his eyes to peer up at Bruce, sitting against the headboard with his phone forgotten in one hand. He’s glad they’re in the fortress and there’s no window for blinding sunlight to shine through. It would probably help heal him but right now he has a splitting headache and the thought of anything bright in his eyes makes it throb harder.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks.

“Mng,” Clark mumbles, rolling over to press his face against his partner’s side. Bruce’s hand comes to rest on top of his head, scratching lightly at his scalp. Clark melts under the gentle massage. Bruce’s amusement is practically tangible and Clark’s mind wades through molasses to show him a sliver of memory of the time Bruce likened him to his son’s cat. He’d had a lot of good points, mainly revolving around attention and sunlight. Unfortunately he hadn’t immediately clarified that he was talking about the cat and Clark had spent the first half of the conversation perplexed as to why Alfred Pennyworth napped in sunspots and liked being rubbed under the chin.

Bruce’s hand wanders lower, sliding down to massage Clark’s neck and working down his shoulders. This time, Clark’s groan is one of pleasure. They rarely have mornings like this, lazing in bed, and it’s almost enough to make Clark consider letting himself be poisoned by Kryptonite more often.

Almost. There is one thing, one person, that is missing, making the slow start to the day a little less than perfect.

“Where’s Di?”

“She went to get food.” 

Oh. Yeah, food sounds like a good idea. The Fortress of Solitude had been the closest place with the tools to remove the Kryptonite shards that were peppered across Clark’s body after Luthor’s bomb went off, but it’s not exactly stocked with everyday necessities. A few cans of vegetables and bottled water, yes, but breakfast foods? No. Not since the last time Dick came here and ate all the cereal, which was months ago. And Clark hasn’t even thought about restocking; any time not spent at his apartment these days is usually spent at Bruce or Diana’s.

“I forgot about food,” Clark says sheepishly.

Bruce grunts. “You were delirious from Kryptonite poisoning.”

Clark can barely remember some of last night so he can’t really argue with that. He just hums something vaguely agreeable around a jaw-splitting yawn. 

“You can go back to sleep if you want,” Bruce says. “We’ll wake you for breakfast.”   


“Nah ‘m awake now.” Clark pushes himself upright, leaning into Bruce when the world swims. “Wha’ time’s it?” he asks, scrubbing a hand over his face, feeling the scratch of stubble he’s not going to be able to burn off for at least another day. 

“It’s nine-oh-six,” Bruce replies, so promptly Clark doubts he even looked at his phone or watch.

Clark tries stretching out his senses but he can’t smell anything more than the man beside him and the faint scent of sweat which clings to the sheets. He can’t hear anything except his and Bruce’s breathing and the quiet taps of Bruce typing on his phone. The effort just makes his head pound. He sighs; that article he has due today is definitely not going to be finished.

“What’re you doing?”

“Texting.”

Clark huffs. “Who?”

“Diana.” There’s a smile in Bruce’s voice. “She’ll be back in fifteen minutes. She also says Superman must be slacking off because she had to stop and rescue two kittens from trees.”

“Ha, ha,” Clark grumbles, but he can’t hide the smile in his own voice.

Despite his earlier claim to being awake, he’s on the edge of dozing when there's the sound of footsteps and Diana enters the bedroom. “Good morning,” she says, kneeling on the bed to lean over and kiss both of them. “Nice to see you awake, Kal.”

Clark kind of wishes he wasn’t awake. Even though it’s been several hours since Bruce and Diana pulled the last fragment of Kryptonite out of him, he feels like it’s still in his system. There’s a bruise on his jaw that feels tender and painful, probably looks an ugly mulberry colour, which means his healing is still impeded. The world feels dulled without his heightened senses, emptier since he can’t hear his partners’ heartbeats unless he presses close to them. He doesn’t like it; he hopes Diana and Bruce will be able to stay within reach until he’s fully recovered.

“Bruce said you were getting breakfast?” Clark asks, instead of complaining about how terrible he feels. That would just make them frown and fuss, and Clark is sure he’s going to be doted on enough as it is. He’s so used to being the completely invulnerable one that it’s strange being on the receiving end of Bruce and Diana’s mother henning. Not unpleasant though.

Diana leans back to grab the cotton shopping bag she sat beside the bed. “Special delivery from Ma Kent,” she says. “Blueberry pancakes and coffee.”

They eat in bed, sitting close enough to lean against each other even though the bed is custom made and big enough for each of them to lie with plenty of room. Clark takes a sip of the coffee and imagines he can feel the caffeine buzzing through his veins. A few more sips and the fog in his brain recedes a bit, although his body still feels heavy and lethargic. 

“So what’s the plan?” Diana asks, leaning over to catch a rogue blueberry with her fork just as it rolls off Bruce’s plate. “I have nowhere more important to be today.”

“Netflix and chill?” Bruce suggests, completely deadpan, and Clark almost chokes on his coffee. Diana helpfulls pats his back while he coughs.

“How do you-” Clark shakes his head. “Actually, I don’t want to know.”

Sometimes, investigative reporter or not, it’s best just not to question things. 

“A movie marathon sounds good,” Diana says with a nod. 

Bruce and Diana both get up to clear away the plates and cutlery. Clark tries to help but they both pin him with such fierce looks that he just sinks back against the pillows. Then slides a little further down curl up under the covers. Maybe it’s just that Bruce and Diana were both so warm, but the bed feels suddenly cold. 

When the cleanup has been done, Bruce disappears from the room to grab his laptop from the Batplane parked outside while Diana slides between the sheets on Clark’s right side. Her arm settles across his waist and her hair tickles his ear. He shivers when her lips brush over his temple, feels her smile against his skin as she moulds her body around his. It never seems to matter how they end up arranged in bed, she’s always the big spoon. 

“Cold?” Diana murmurs, warm fingers creeping under the hem of Clark’s shirt and sliding along bare skin. Her leg is edging between his when Bruce returns. 

“You’re such a tease,” Clark complains. “You know I don’t have the energy to do anything right now.”

“You could just watch,” Bruce suggests, getting in to flank Clark’s other side, and Diana laughs while Clark groans.

“You both suck.”

“If that’s what you want…”

Clark smacks Bruce’s shoulder, not holding back since he doesn’t have to worry about super strength at the moment. “Just put on a movie,” he says, wriggling around until he’s cocooned comfortably between his partners. “You can-” a yawn interrupts him “-take care of me in other ways later. Right now I want to cuddle.”

“As you wish,” Diana says. A moment later the opening scene of The Princess Bride starts playing and Clark rolls his eyes. Nerds. He’s dating nerds.

Nerds who are really good at cuddling. It’s like being enveloped by the physical manifestations of warmth and love and safety. Clark feels better already just from being tucked between them. 

But just to be sure he’s really on the mend, he should stay cuddled close to them all day.

So he does.


End file.
